


Looking Back to Move Forward

by CaptainNightGale



Series: Of Hunters and Hunting [4]
Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, General fiction, I skate over all that, Literature, death and destruction, fan fiction, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNightGale/pseuds/CaptainNightGale
Summary: ApparentlyWerebudgielikesmy writing or something like that, bc she keeps asking me for stuffMaybe her love for Monster Hunter overrides everything elseidk





	Looking Back to Move Forward

**Author's Note:**

>  Apparently [Werebudgie](https://werebudgie.deviantart.com) _likes_ my writing or something like that, bc she keeps asking me for stuff  
>  Maybe her love for Monster Hunter overrides everything else  
> idk

Kitten slumps back in her seat and scowls at Uma, the minute she sees her wave in greeting to Warchive’s call. “Really? He gives me the  _creeps_ ,” she mutters, pulling a knee up onto the chair to act as a barrier.

They’re sitting on the veranda of the pub on the hill, enjoying - or  _were_ enjoying, Kitten thinks - their first proper meal in a city in almost half a year.

And now Warchive was no doubt forcing his way around the tables between them and the doors of the building - Kitten refuses to look around, refuses to acknowledge his presence - to ruin  everything .

“Uma, you’re looking  _gorgeous_ as always.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she replies, as Warchive stops beside them.

He’s tall, over-muscled, and dark, but not  _just_ because he’s blocking out the sun.

Kitten flashes him a brief glance as he turns away to requisition a chair from another table - she doubts he asks, or waits for an answer if he  _does_ \- and wrinkles her nose at his dreadlocks, which had been coiled up into a bun on the back of his head, but were now beginning to fall free in loops down his back. An  _artful_ mess, maybe, if he wants people to think he’s just come from a hunt himself.

Like the rest of him, too; he’s wearing dark trousers and no shirt, and a jacket that he’s ripped the sleeves from (because he wants the  _world_ to know he has  _muscles_ and  _scars_ like any other hunter).  _And_ a great sword slung over his back.

“I thought this was a no weapons zone,” Kitten says, picking at a loose thread in her trousers. It isn’t a question because she knows  _fine well_ that it is, and so does everyone else.

But everyone else isn’t going to say anything, because he’s got that sword with him.

“Yes, but isn’t she a beauty?” Warchive pulls it out of the straps holding it to his back before he sits, and Kitten pulls her plate away from the centre of the table before he can put it down on top of it. “Eldaora’s Death,” he informs them.

“Well that’s frickin’ dramatic,” Kitten mutters.

The blade is curved, marked to look like the outstretched wing of some bird, with a red tinge to the end that Kitten isn’t  _entirely_ sure isn’t just dried on old blood. The handle is the bird’s legs, while after the inside curve is the bird’s head. The blade cuts out from its body, and looks more like it’s for show than actually for using. It’s clear across the other side of the table and still has length to spare.

“That must have taken its time to gather all the materials,” Uma says, leaning forward to study the blade, stroking down it a little to check the pattern of feathers that’s etched into it.

“Well, you helped, with that chameleos armour set of yours.” He leans it against their table and sits, the back of the chair between his legs.

Kitten shudders and pulls her chair away from his side of the table. Something about him sets her on edge, and it isn’t just because he has no concept of personal space when it comes to Uma.

He takes Uma’s tankard all but from her hand and downs the rest of it, winking as he smirks at her. “You always did have a  _great_ taste in drinks.”

“I  _do_ have a great thirst,” Uma replies, almost in the same tone.

“I’ll just-” Kitten moves as if to hop out of her seat.

“No, here.” Warchive raises a hand to wave over a waiter. As he does so, his jacket falls open and Kitten sees the flash of metals on the underside of it.

“What is  _that_ ?” she asks, curiosity overcoming her natural dislike of him.

“These?” He pulls open the flap of his jacket, and then just pulls it off - to the gasps of people who clearly have nothing better to do with their time than watch some hunter strip in public.

There’s a few of them; medals, for - Kitten doesn’t know _what_ , exactly, because she’s never seen them before. Or - almost none of them before.

The crest of Dundorma catches her eyes, backed by hooked shadows that are almost wings, and her breath leaves her in a rush.

He had been there?

“Kitten, are you alright?” Uma asks, leaning across to try and catch her hand.

“You were at Dundorma?” Kitten asks, pulling her hands back. Her voice rings distant and hollow even in her ears, a rushing eclipsing it.

“When the Gogmazios attacked? Yeah.”

Gogmazios. That was the name of the shadow, the one that brought fire and falling walls and-

“ _Gods_ , that was a rough fight. Gogmazios came down from the mountain,” he says, explaining to Uma. Or maybe both of them. Or maybe the veranda at large. “And no one knows why, but it’s surrounded by all these other flyers. Maybe it’s on a migration, or being called to something, but-”

But it had stopped at the city.

Kitten stands up and finds that - miraculously - her hands aren’t shaking. She feels they  _should_ be, with - with everything.

Screams ring in her ears.

Uma waves a hand to silence Warchive. “Kitten-”

“I - I have to go.” She turned away from the table, trying to hold it together. He had been there _he had been there he had_ -

She forces her way through the packed ring of tables towards the building of the pub.

Uma catches her at the entrance, a hand light on her arm. “Kitten. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just - I just figured... you and Warchive could catch up. Without me there. He can regale you with tales of his heroism.” Kitten doesn’t mean to snap, but that’s how it comes out; cold and angry and bitter.

Uma frowns and draws back. “He isn’t-”

“Then why does he wear those - those _medals_?” Kitten cuts her off. “Why does he wear the memories of other people’s _deaths_ , the destruction of other people’s _lives_?” Her voice is rising, but she doesn’t - can’t bring herself to - care. “It’s just an easy way into someone’s pants.” She yanks her arm free and storms from the building.

“Kitten!” Uma yells after her.

Kitten is running back down the path into the town proper, heedless of Uma, of people coming back up towards the pub, of the path itself. She slips and falls, scraping her way into thorny bushes and down scree, almost blind to what’s actually around her.

Her heart, her lungs - her ears are all telling her run, _run, there’s a monster coming_ and so she does, blindly into the maze of the city, down narrow paths where the monsters can’t reach her.

She slams into a wall and finds herself in a dead end, and slides to its base. With nowhere else to go, her energy rushes blindly _back_ and she - and she’s-

~

Kitten is four, or five - she’s young, and holding onto the hand of someone she can’t see the face of but they’re warm and she trusts them and they’re  _happy_ . They’re walking in the streets of a city - of Dundorma, Kitten knows the buildings here, knows the marketplace - they’re home. The whole city is her home, and this person beside her-

She looks up, but they’re haloed by light and she can’t make out a face but she knows she’s  _safe_ . This is her mother and they are happy.

“Shall we go for choclatl?” Her voice is warm and full of love, and Kitten finds herself nodding.

The city is full of the bustle of a market, and she’s carrying a bag in her free hand.

If there are yells and the sharp retort of guns in the distance, she doesn’t notice, because they’re buried and too far removed from her life that she wouldn’t understand what they were if she could hear them.

The first she - or anyone in the marketplace - knows that something is wrong is when the first monster - taller than the tallest person there, but smaller than the buildings, on a level with some of the awnings of the market stalls - lands amongst them.

Screams erupt, and the market becomes a mad rush of running and trying to get away.

The monster is bleeding, and its wings are still outspread and it spits some kind of acid across the stalls that eats away at them. Someone is caught in the spray and they fall, screaming, as the acid dissolves away their skin right down to the bone.

Kitten is frozen to the spot, almost, staring in wide-eyed terror at the beast. The person holding her hand tugs her and they stumble away, knocked this way and that through the rampaging crowd.

More appear, more monsters of all shapes and sizes. Some of them fall in, dead, and skid across the spaces and into stalls, breaking them to pieces and sending food and cloth and wood scattering everywhere.

There’s smoke - a fire has started, knocked over from a lamp or maybe one of the monsters-

Kitten’s hand is slick and she holds tight to the hand of the person with her, but they’re running and she stumbles and their hands slip apart and-

Kitten  _screams_ , but it’s lost in the tumult of a city gone mad with fear, in the roars of monsters and the screams of people.

She hits the ground on her knees and scrambles to her feet, but someone running past catches her with their leg and she falls again, and-

And when she blinks open her eyes, it is quiet and the city smoulders and there is rubble and smoke and pools of acid everywhere.

Kitten wriggles free of whatever’s holding her down, and lets out a small scream as she finds a _body_ , warm from the fire but stiff, where she’d been lying. She screams and claps a hand over her mouth too late, because there’s still _something_ in the ruined market with her, still something that roots amongst the ruins and is more smoke-filled outline than fully realised beast, something that hisses and clicks and turns to face her with huge eyes that catch the embers and gleam.

Kitten stands alone and small in the ruins of her life, and steps back as the beast starts to stalk towards her, hands at her back to feel for a wall and eyes unable to leave the monster. She trips over - over bodies, monsters and humans, and fallen rubble and food and tools, and at one point she slips on a long roll of silk, now stained with mud and blood and worse, the damage irreparable.

She falls backwards and lands heavily, which jolts another cry from her.

The beast doesn’t stop - it lunges forward, rather, and Kitten screams again and throws a hand up to shield her face, closes her eyes-

Someone else yells, and the beast never comes.

Instead, hands pull her roughly to her feet, patting her down to check for any hurts.

Kitten opens her eyes and sees a man, kitted out in full armour that’s too bloodstained and scratched and bashed to be ornate, but has clear signs of care. Behind him, a huge sword is planted in the monster’s head, and blood was trailing out from its mouth.

“You’re not hurt?” He snaps his fingers in front her face, the sound more scraping metal than anything else, but it catches her attention.

Kitten shakes her head, and he pushes her towards an alley.

“Stay out of sight, stay safe.” He reaches back to yank his sword free, and rests it over his shoulder.

He leaves her there, in the wreckage, and runs towards where there is still the sound of fighting.

Kitten turns to see fire pluming into the air, highlighting a narrow head set on a too-bulky body, massive even against the buildings near to her.

She looks down at her trembling hands - scratched and stained with muck and blood and-

Kitten lets out a wordless cry, because her  mother is gone (when did she go,  _where_ did she go, why does she only notice now-) and she’s alone in the death of the city and-

She doesn’t  _want_ to be alone, doesn’t want to be covered in blood and shivering in a back street alley, waiting for the next monster to sniff her out.

So she runs out, slipping on blood and mud and gasping at the stench of it all, and heads without thinking towards the wall, towards-

There are people there, and that’s all she’s thinking. There are people and she will not be alone and everything will be-

A building falls behind her, and shattered pieces of it score across her shoulders, through the thin shirt she is wearing.

Kitten cries out and lurches forward as she arches her back away from the sudden  cutting  pain and trips over something still warm and soft on the ground.

She falls and comes face to face with a corpse, with a face that is thankfully still whole, but twisted with the abject terror of monsters in the streets, of-

It’s missing its lower half.

Kitten twists to the side and throws up, then crawls back and drags herself to her feet and-

She is surrounded by corpses, surrounded by death and destruction, and maybe she is the only living thing  _left_ in the town, but-

But the clashes of weapons are closer now, as are the city-shaking roars that had too quickly become the backdrop and sunk out of notice into the general clamour of the horror-rich devastation.

Kitten looks up and sees the walls, and beyond them -  _through_ them, because the wall is shattered in one place, crumbling down into a rubble strewn opening - sees the monster to end all monsters, the monster that will herald the end of time, the-

It is beyond words, beyond her reckoning. It shoots fire and death from somewhere above the face that is glowing ominous red, its arms hooking into what remains of the wall and pulling it apart.

Kitten sees the hunters like ants about it, perfectly within her sight, but so... small compared to the monster.

She freezes. She stands small and alone in the empty space between buildings and walls, where the horse market should be, where the city guard made their home. Rubble and fire fall around her and she cannot take her eyes from the monster that is swiping through the hunters like they’re  leaves,  like they’re-

“What are you _doing_ here?” The same gruff hunter lifts her this time, carries her out of sight and leaves her in the shelter of an awning that hasn’t yet fallen.

He knocks on the door of a building with the handle of his sword until it opens, and pushes her inside without ceremony.

Kitten turns to look up at him and sees-

~

“ _Warchive_ ,” she gasps, coughing on shuddering breaths as she comes back to herself.

She’s in the alley, it’s dark and cold and she’s not alone.

Kitten reaches for a weapon she remembers too late she isn’t carrying, and twists to the side to throw up instead, resting her weight on her arm.

“It’s just me.” Rae sits, crouched on his heels. “Are you ok?”

A small torch is wedged between the shattered slabs just in front of Kitten. In front of Rae too, since he’s sitting at right angles to her.

“What are you doing here?” Kitten slowly controls her breathing and pushes herself to a sitting position. She’s cold and wet and  _really_ needing a bath.

“Saw you running down here in a blind panic, followed.” Rae watches Kitten, a slight crease in his brow and his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you... what happened? You weren’t really responding-”

Kitten shakes her head, trying to sort through everything. She seizes on the last image. “Warchive,” she says again. He  _had_ been there. He’d... saved her?

“You know him?” Rae shifts uneasily. “He’s - um-”

“A dick?” Kitten suggests, rubbing at her legs. Everything  _tingles_ , and her heart is still racing. She still needs to - Kitten jumps to her feet, and Rae pulls the torch free and stands seconds after her. “Uma knows him,” she says. “And he saved my life.”

“Oh. Well-”

“He’s still a dick,” Kitten replies, seeing Rae trying to backtrack on what he’s thinking. “Just...”

“I thought Uma saved your life?” Rae waits for Kitten’s cue to see if they’re going to leave this alley.

“She did.” Kitten nods. “But he... saved it before?” She shrugs, shifting from foot to foot. She doesn’t want to leave the safety of the walls, being surrounded by immovables, but- “It’s complicated.”

Rae nods. “That’s cool. I guess some people need a lot of saving.”

“Shut up I was a  _child_ .” The ribbing makes it easier to focus, to step away from the memories that still try to crowd her out. Mud on her hands, not blood. Mud and... other mess.

She shudders and wipes her hands down her top, since it’s ruined already.

Rae grins, palms up as he shrugs. “Never said it was a  _bad_ thing, Kitcat.”

Kitten looks at him,  _really_ looks at him. In the light of the torch - had it got that dark already? How long had she been out? - she can’t really make out features, but she can tell he’s dressed in light travelling armour, and it’s  _clean_ , so- “Are you leaving today? Have I made you late for something?”

“Nah, not today.” Rae shakes his head. “There’s a group of researchers heading out to Bherna, they’re looking for escort.”

Kitten tilts her head, considering. “You got the job?”

“Don’t sound  _too_ shocked.” Rae laughs. “Where are you and Uma staying just now? I’m thinking you should maybe head back there... get changed.”

“Get a  _bath_ , you mean.” Kitten wrinkles her nose and starts to walk, pacing out the jitters. Her hands are trembling, but she doesn’t want to shove them in her pockets because they’re covered in dirt and terrible, slimy things. Alley messes.

They walk back out into the street and Kitten reorientates herself to find out where the inn is from here.

Out near the walls, because Hunters don’t get to walk far into town wearing their weapons and their armour, because it made people _uneasy_ to see the reminders of the dangers outside. Course, people like Warchive ignored that. Rae too, apparently, but he might have been wearing it for the... interview, or meeting for his new job.

Rae walks beside her, and Kitten pretends she can’t see him casting her concerned glances.

“Tell me about this research job?”

“It seems pretty cushy.” Rae shrugs again. “Escort. Probably a lot of standing around while they... research things. Some fetch and carry.”

Kitten nods. A change of pace from what she’s used to.

“They... they might have room for another,” Rae says, “If you’re wondering.”

Kitten nods again, thinking. Uma joked, after every hunt, that she’d be pushing Kitten out into the  _big bad world_ . Maybe it  _was_ time to take her up on that. To leave. To do her own thing.

“Kitten!”

Kitten snaps her head up to see Uma jogging towards them.

“Where have you  _been -_ what happened - when you-” Uma pulls up short and looks her over. “Alleyway?”

“Gotta stick to what I’m used to.” Kitten shrugs, forcing her voice light and joking. Her hands are still shaking, and this time she  _does_ shove them in her pockets, because she will not admit weakness and most things can be cleaned. “I have spent a lot of time being thrown into alleys, after all.”

Warchive isn’t with her, so she can’t make it any more pointed than that.

Uma frowns, not quite understanding. “I’m glad you’re... you’re safe?” She pulls up short, makes it a question.

Kitten nods. “I am. I just... had to work through some things.”

“I’m sorry about War. I have asked him to tone it down-”

“It’s fine.” Kitten shrugs. “It’s probably some sort of defence mechanism, right? Hunters see a lot of shit.”

Uma nods slowly, as if she doesn’t understand the change in attitude.

Kitten’s just - decided not to  _care_ . Warchive is none of her concern. Not anymore.

Rae shifts on his feet beside Kitten, and Uma finally notices him. Or - turns her attention to him, at any rate.

“Rae, isn't it?” She scans him, automatically checking his armour out. As if wondering if she needs to pull him up, look after yet another child hunter.

“Yes’m. I found Kitten in the alley, I’m just...”

“He’s telling me about his new job,” Kitten says, when Rae trails off. “Escorting researchers out to Bherna.”

Uma studies her. “You want to go with them.”

Kitten hesitates. Uma always could read her well. “Is... is that alright?” She doesn’t particularly  want  to leave - again, the only thing she’s been comfortable with, the only place she’s really been happy since-

“It’s your life, Kitten. You don’t have to spend all of it at my side.”

Kitten nods slowly.

“When do you move out?” Uma asks.

“They want to go tomorrow,” Rae replies. “Early morning.”

Kitten blinks. “Oh.”

“Better get a bath then,” Uma says, cracking a small smile. “So much for spending a week in town, though.”

Kitten forces a smile, but apart from the surprise at leaving again so  _soon_ , it wasn’t... it wasn’t a bad thing. Parting was hard, but - but it was time. She starts forward, as if to hug Uma, and Uma holds up her hands to ward her off.

“Not when you’re like that.”

Kitten laughs, aware of the grime that’s slowly drying to her. “Right. Bath.” She turns to Rae. “See you at the gates in the morning?”

Rae glances at Uma, and something indecipherable passes between them before he nods. “Bright and early.”

“I’ll see you there.” She grabs his hand before he can protest, before he can pull back. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much.” He squeezes her hand in return.

“You were  _there_ .” She lets go and moves across to join Uma.

“Yeah, well...” He shrugs. “You’d do the same for me.”

Kitten nods and turns with Uma, walking away.

“Everything alright?” Uma asks. “War was-”

“He was War,” Kitten interrupts, not wanting to hear excuses. “He was how he always is. I just - remembered something I had to deal with.” Not entirely untrue. “It’s fine.”

“You have to keep in touch, then.” Uma changes the topic in an obvious shift, but Kitten doesn’t mind. She appreciates it, in fact, that Uma  _isn’t_ pushing.

“I’m not sure what the post system is going to be like,” Kitten replies, grinning.

“Excuses.” Uma laughs. “Those researchers’ll want to send stuff back all the time, just slip a couple notes in every now and again.”

“Be as well sending them off just by the wind, where do I address them to?”

“Just write  _Uma_ on the front of them. They’ll find me.”

“Right, right.” Kitten grins. “Not a common name at  _all_ , not even slightly vague, how could that  _possibly_ go wrong?”

Uma turns towards their inn, and Kitten hesitates in the street.

The lamps are lit, and it’s all so warm and comforting that she has to stop and wonder and think - is this what she  _wants_ ?

Uma turns back towards her. “Kitten? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just - you’re not... mad, are you?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because...” Kitten shrugs. She’s never done the leaving half of this before, she’s only ever been left behind.

“We both knew you were going to fly the nest one day, Kit.” Uma steps back towards her and rests a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. This is what happens.” She pulls Kitten against her, wrapping her arms around her.

“Hey - your clothes-” Kitten’s protest is muffled.

“They can be washed.”

Kitten submits to the hug, and pretends she isn’t blinking away tears.

“Hey, a hug pile! Can we join in?” Sunny is warm against Kitten’s ankles, and she laughs as Uma lets go.

“Hey you three.” She glances down to see Sunny hugging her knee - the highest he can reach - and Luka and Snow beyond him, stepping out of the gloom.

“Get everything done?” Uma asks.

Snow nods. “Few others asking if we’d go out looking for things, but I told ‘em we’d be waiting a bit before heading back out.”

Luka studies Kitten. “What happened?”

“It’s fine, Luka,” she replies, bending down to peel Sunny away from her leg. “I just-”

“She’s decided to move on from this chapter,” Uma says, when Kitten stalls.

“We’re heading up to Bherna,” Kitten says. “If you’re ok with that?”

Luka nods slowly, blinking in approval.

“We’ll miss you,” Sunny says, paws wrapped around Kitten’s hand now. “Even Snow, though he won’t admit it.”

Snow snorts and looks away, but he’s clearly holding something back.

“Thank you,” Kitten says, and looks up at Uma. “ _Thank you_ ,” she repeats, putting everything she wants to say but can’t into those two words, every bit of gratitude she has to give.

Uma smiles and offers her a hand to pull her to her feet. “Let’s get you washed off, first. Can’t send you off looking like  _that_ , what will they think of me?”

Kitten laughs and wipes her eyes as Uma leads her and the palico inside.


End file.
